


The Difference Between Spiderman and Peter Parker

by TARDISTraveller42



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, F/M, Family, Fluff, Friendship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Tony Stark Has A Heart, gun mention
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-22
Updated: 2019-07-22
Packaged: 2020-07-11 10:18:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,562
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19926472
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TARDISTraveller42/pseuds/TARDISTraveller42
Summary: Peter gets mugged as Peter Parker, dorky high schooler wandering through a midtown subway station, not Spiderman, masked vigilante. Not everyone would see the difference between these two situations, but he certainly feels them. So he runs to the closest safe house: Stark Tower





	The Difference Between Spiderman and Peter Parker

The Difference Between Spiderman and Peter Parker

Sometimes living a double life was awesome. It was like being a secret agent. Or superman. James Bond with sticky fingers. No, maybe not that.

Because he could be Peter Parker, science nerd and overall average high schooler, while simultaneously being spiderman, famous (or infamous?) masked vigilante. And wasn’t that the best? To have both worlds at once, easily maneuvered via careful costume changes? 

Well, usually it was the best.

But sometimes it didn’t feel like he was two people combined into one body. Sometimes it felt like he was one body being pulled in two different directions.

And that definitely was not the best.

Peter thought about this as he stood in a dark subway tunnel beneath midtown Manhattan, staring down two guys in masks. Who were sticking him up. The one time he didn’t have his web shooters or his suit.

The usual Parker luck.

“Give me your wallet,” the guy on the left growled. He had a low voice, full of anger. He wasn’t to be messed with.

Peter’s left hand, still raised above his head, wavered slowly toward his back pocket.

“Okay. It’s in my pocket, so-”

“Hurry up!” The goon on the right shouted, spinning Peter around by the shoulders until he was facing the wall. 

It wasn’t even a nice wall. Mud and God-knows-what caked the grout separating gray tiles that used to be white. A few crappy graffiti jobs littered the portions not covered in splashes of beer. And to top it off, scribbled notes contained language that would make Mr. Stark blush.

Mr. Stark! He lived near here!

Peter cautiously turned his eyes up to the ceiling, which was even more disgusting than the wall. As if Iron Man were about to fly in and save him. As if he weren’t on his own here, with these two losers robbing him in the darkened subway station.

As if anyone even knew he was here.

That was what made Peter afraid. Not the guy on the left holding one hand on the gun in his pocket (though that didn’t help). It was the fact that not even May knew exactly where he was right now. He’d only come to midtown tonight because he had a physics project to work on with a partner, who happened to be the only kid in the class that lived in Manhattan. And apparently couldn’t go to Queens, or even meet Peter halfway.

(Now Peter was just trying to distract himself from his fear by getting angry. It was like the reverse of what Dr. Banner usually tried to do. Only it wasn’t working).

“Don’t move, kid,” the voice growled again, as Peter accidentally shifted in the men’s grasp.

He felt his wallet slip out of his pocket. Then they ripped the backpack off of his shoulders. 

Peter’s heart was racing. Absolutely racing. Because he wasn’t Spiderman right now. He was just Peter, a scared high schooler praying for a miracle to come and stop this nightmare from being real. 

For whatever reason, the guys shoved him before they ran off, making him smack his eyebrow on the filthy wall. When he was finished blinking stars out of his eyes, he found himself on his hands and knees on the floor. Dazed. Feeling drunk (not that he knew what that felt like, being underage). 

All of a sudden, he became aware of two sensations. First, there was a puddle of some kind (dare he guess what had created the puddle?) wetting the knee of his jeans. Second, the adrenaline that had been marring his sense of time and space was fading, leaving a feeling of exhaustion and reeling shock behind. 

He had to figure out his next step. Preferably before someone else decided to mug him of his shirt and the few other possessions he still had.

Oh God, he’d have to tell May he needed yet another backpack.

Nevermind, focus Peter. There are more important things happening here. A guy pulled a gun on you!

Okay, that had happened loads of times to Spiderman. But not to Peter Parker! Not on his way home from a classmate’s house!

Focus, focus, focus.

Mr. Stark!

Somehow Peter navigated through the streets of New York and stumbled into the front door of Stark Tower. He was lucky he didn’t set off an alarm. But then again, this place probably had so much tech it could identify who you were, where you were born, and what your motivations were for entering. 

“Mr. Stark?” Peter tried into the monitor, voice soft and a little hoarse. “I don’t know if you’re home, but...I, er...my Metrocard is gone and I don’t have any money…”

The door clicked unlocked. Then a light flicked on in the lobby. Peter looked up just in time to see Tony, wearing a puzzled expression as he opened the door. 

For whatever reason, it shocked Peter to see the genius billionaire actually answering the door himself, especially so quickly. He almost smiled. 

“Kid?” Tony asked, looking Peter up and down as if eyeing a train wreck.

For whatever reason, that was what made Peter crumble. Before he could stop himself, he was grabbing Tony around the waist and burying his face in his shirt, ignoring the discomfort of the arc reactor pushing into his cheek. 

Tony froze at first, but then returned the hug with a fearful tension in his shoulders.

“What’s going on?” he asked.

Peter opened his mouth to respond, but couldn’t find any proper words. He sniffed. Tears rolled down his cheeks. His fingers took hold of Mr. Stark’s shirt with all the strength his powers allowed him. 

“Okay,” Tony breathed, squeezing the boy’s shoulders. “Okay.”

They stayed this way for another minute, standing just inside the doorway and in view of all the passing New Yorkers. Peter let go first, then Tony, who re-locked the door and led the way into the house.

“Talk to me, Pete,” Tony said as soon as they were seated on the couch. 

“I was in midtown working on a project…”

“This late at night?”

Peter blushed.

“It’s due Monday...I know, I know.” Peter sighed, rubbing his face in his hands until he brushed against the cut on his brow. With a wince, his lips quirked into a frown.

“Let’s get you cleaned up,” Tony said wearily, encouraging Peter back to his feet.

As they sat on the edge of the bathtub, Peter jumping every time Tony dabbed antiseptic on his wound, he started talking again.

“I was heading for the train when these two guys came up to me. One of them had a gun in his hand, and they were both wearing masks...they took my wallet and my backpack. Aunt May is gonna kill me.”

Tony suddenly paused.

“Wait, she knows you’re okay though, right?”

Peter shrugged.

“Probably not. They took my phone, so…”

“Pete!” Tony unlocked his own phone and handed it over. “Call your aunt. Tell her you’re sleeping here tonight. Pepper and Happy are both upstairs, if that eases her mind.” 

Peter froze, lip wobbling, with the phone locked in a tight hold.

“Thank you, Mr. Stark,” he said, in a voice hardly above a whisper.

“Don’t mention it.”

Tony went back to fixing up the cut on his head while Peter talked to May. Expectedly, she had already called three police stations and was not enthused about him staying at Mr. Stark’s house, but she accepted it nonetheless.

“I’ll be home tomorrow, okay May? Love you.” Peter quietly ended the call and gave the phone back. “She says I can stay the night. She’s picking me up tomorrow.”

Tony simply nodded, sticking a final bandage over Peter’s eyebrow. 

“Okay kid, let’s get you set up on the couch-”

“Tony?”

Both Tony and Peter spun around to find Pepper in the doorway. She looked half asleep, standing there with her pajamas wrinkled and dishevelled. But her eyes were as bright as ever.

“Hey Pep,” Tony said. “Kid had a rough night. Needs a place to stay.”

Pepper nodded; relaxed. 

“Peter, are you okay?”

“Y-yeah. Yeah, I’m okay.” He smiled gratefully. “Your house is really cool.”

Pepper smoothed the boy’s hair, almost the same way May always did. Then she turned to Tony again with puppy-dog eyes.

“You weren’t going to make him sleep on the couch, were you?”

Tony’s lips quirked, eyes meeting Peter’s for a fraction of a second.

“Of course not. Why would I ever do that?” He clapped Peter on the arm. “Come on, Pete. There’s gotta be a guest room somewhere in here.”

Peter smiled wide as he was led deeper into the Stark’s home. Not because evrything here was shinier and more expensive than his entire apartment. And not even because he was hanging out at the Avengers Tower for the night.

No; he was happy because he finally realized something. The difference between Peter Parker and Spiderman wasn’t about superpowers or masks or web shooters. The difference was that Spiderman was usually on his own, because to let people in would put them in danger, whereas Peter Parker was definitely not alone. He had people who cared about him for him, not for what he could do or who he could save.

And, just for tonight, he preferred being Peter Parker.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you soooo much for reading! Please comment below if you enjoyed any parts of this little story!


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